


Number: 100

by kirargent



Category: Person of Interest (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Finch!Raven, Reese!Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: Raven’s smooth voice meets his ear. “We’ve got a number, Blake.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarauderCracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/gifts).



> for the [no white saviors exchange](http://ravenbell-exchange.tumblr.com/post/145866750487/caption-two-stacked-images-of-characters-of)!! i hope you enjoy this andrea i love you<33333333
> 
> warnings for ? the b slur shows up once. some discussion of recreational drugs. think that's it.
> 
> request (from the dear author letter): Person of Interest AU: Finch!Raven, Reese!Bell, Root!Emori, Shaw!Anya, Carter!Indra, Fusco!Nathan.

 

Bellamy Blake’s phone buzzes between his ass and the stone bench on which he’s seated. He slides the cell from his pocket with a grimace of apology to the man across from him.

Raven’s smooth voice meets his ear. “We’ve got a number, Blake.”

Bellamy sets his mouth. He doesn’t bother saying “Can it wait?,” though he’s midway through a game of chess with his favorite opponent of the last few months. Of course it can’t wait. It’s a new number. That means someone will be in danger, and it’s on Bellamy to save their ass.

“I’m on my way,” he tells Raven. To his chess partner, he indicates with a gesture and an expression that he’s gotta go, sorry, and the man nods at him, silently, unsmiling, although he doesn’t look particularly displeased, just … quiet.

Bellamy heads for his car. The season is just beginning to roll over; it’s bright and clear out, but the air slaps his cheeks with just the slightest chill. “What’s our new number like?”

Through the phone, he hears the creak of Raven’s chair as she leans in toward her monitor. It’s a familiar sound; so is the quick, curt snap of her voice relaying to him the information she’s dug up. Bellamy will deny that the corners of his mouth are touched with a smile.

  


 

“Raven,” Bellamy says. “I thought you said this guy was squeaky-clean!”

His earpiece delivers what sounds an awful lot like a growl, but it’s not the dog, it’s Raven. “I _thought he was_.”

“Then why the hell are there government-trained assassins coming after him?”

“I don’t know!” Raven snaps. “I don’t know what’s going—”

There’s the splatter-bang of fast gunfire. Bellamy holds his breath, handgun ready. He’s by the door, his back pressed to the wall. Waiting.

A foot kicks the door open. The foot belongs to Anya. Bellamy exhales.

“Jesus. Glad it’s you, Anya.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the slim-shouldered man who’s wide-eyed behind him. “I think I’m gonna need some help keeping this one safe.”

Anya raises one slim eyebrow. Cool motherfucker. Bellamy hates her. “So Raven said.” Her sharp eyes take in their current number: a swoop of dark hair over wide brown eyes; a narrow body; anxiously twisted hands.

“Um,” the guy says. “Hi? I’m Monty.”

Anya narrows her eyes. Bellamy can’t read her. “Okay,” she says to Monty. To Bellamy: “We’d better get him out of here. Fast.”

  


 

So there’s government coming after this guy, the big guns: they’ve got numbers, and tech, and intel. And, for extra fun, the reason they’re after him? He was poking around after the Machine. Yep, _the_ Machine, capital “M,” Raven’s baby, the one the government really, really doesn’t want anybody knowing about.

“Sorry,” Raven says. “I’m just—tell me what happened one more time. Your friend bet you you couldn’t hack the laptop of the fancy Suit using the hotel room next to hers, and so you …”

“Did,” Monty finishes, tapping his fingers nervously on his knees. “Yep.” He nods. “I mean, I was—maybe a little high. And Harper bet me a pizza, so. I mean. Yeah, I did it. But, look, the guy’s emails—”

“Are none of your concern,” Bellamy says smoothly. He gives Monty a smile, but a cool-eyed one, one that says “shut up now if you want to keep your tongue, fingers, and all other appendages.”

Raven gives a curt nod. “Don’t look into it.” She crosses one leg over the other, using her hands to assist her braced leg. The dog stretched out at her feet, a long stretch of muscle covered in black and caramel fur, shifts position slightly, re-settling his big snout on his big front paws.

Bellamy tosses Cerberus a biscuit from the bowl on Raven’s file cabinet; the dog lifts his head and snatches the treat from the air easily. It’s gone in a flash of sharp white and a large swallow.

The dog watches Bellamy. Monty watches the dog. Bellamy smiles thinly. “We on the same page, Mr. Green?”

Monty swallows. “Um. Yeah.”

Raven crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair. Her book-crammed, beeping-machine-filled apartment couldn’t be called glamorous, but that wheeled chair is her damn throne, and with her lips turned down, eyes narrowed, she commands the attention of the two standing men easily.

“What do you think, Blake? Is it enough to get him out of town?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Should be. I can have Anya keep an eye on him.”

Raven shakes her head. “Anya’s occupied. Emori texted. The Machine needs its main bitch _and_ a helper for something.”

Bellamy nods. “I’ll call Miller.” One corner of his mouth tugs up. “Poor guy. Think we’ll run out of errands for him any time soon?”

Raven snorts.

“What the fuck’s going on?” says Monty.

Cerberus gives a sleepy sigh and closes his black eyes.

  


 

The game is not going Bellamy’s way.

It’s been two days since he shipped Monty Green out of town. They made the guy promise to keep his hands clean and head down, and, after trying to negotiate exactly how many dime bags he could peddle with “clean hands”— “ _none, man!_ ”—he’d gone. Nathan’s keeping tabs on him from a distance.

Anya’s been off with Emori for a while, but Bellamy’s not concerned. (Cerberus is bummed out, though.)

He and Raven have been handling numbers, occasionally dropping Indra a line for some begrudging help.

So, like, life is pretty good, really. Maybe he’d like Raven to admit she likes his damn dog, (maybe he’d like Raven to admit she likes _him_ ), but like … things are good.

Everything except this chess game, that is.

Bellamy sacrifices a pawn, though he doesn’t think it’s a good enough move to get him out of this mess. “You’re killin’ me, man.”

Lincoln gives him the smallest of smiles. “Checkmate.”

Bellamy groans.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It didn't make it into this fic but please also consider. Wells Jaha is Zoe Morgan thank you and goodnight.


End file.
